


The Witch's Revenge

by Symmetramain



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Banshee Moira O'Deorain, Cultist Tekhartha Zenyatta, Dragon Satya "Symmetra" Vaswani, Gen, Junkenstein's Revenge, Other, Overwatch - Freeform, Witch Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, halloween overwatch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-14 11:30:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16491749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Symmetramain/pseuds/Symmetramain
Summary: Two times she has failed to claim the city of Aldersbrunn, And that is two times too many. She was done holding back, it was time to send a message. Through alliances and mutual goals, the witch will finally put an end to the wretched cities sad story. The castle may be prepared, but no amount of preparation could save them from what was to comeone thing was for certainthis year was going to be fun.





	1. The pre party planning

The Witch of the wilds drummed her fingers on the sleek armrest of her throne, the sound echoing melodically through her dark mansion. Here, in the middle of the cursed forests, none travels without the witch knowing. Every beetle that flies through her woods, every cat that nestles under the leaves of the trees, and every lost wanderer praying for shelter to stave off the cold night, is whispered across the forest, through the trees, their roots and beyond, until those whispers reach the witch herself. Not a single thing goes on in the forest without her knowing, and that’s how she likes it.

She is old by human standards, but a mere child by witch standards, not that there are many witches left to hold up a standard by. Despite her age, she looks as though she was in her prime, and acts like it too. Through her magic, she would live for centuries to come, longer, if her research yielded results. With bright golden hair, and a figure so beautiful it was unnatural (which technically, can’t be further from the truth, as her appearances are held up by magic, and magic is one of the oldest and most natural forces across all planes of existence). She takes a sip from a glass half filled with wine colored such a perfect crimson that, if someone else were to see her, they would be inclined to say it was blood. She glanced around her throne room, soaking in her work. She spent hours slaving away to make the room look perfect, so she is always sure to bask in it’s glory whenever she gets the chance. The ceiling is very high, with two giant, elegant chandeliers Hanging from them, sporting numerous candles that lit the room in a such a way that it seemed almost ethereal. There is a fire pit down the steps of her throne a few feet away, and the fire would burn indefinelty, and it gave off a glow too beautiful to be just any old fire ( The witch may have pulled in a favour from a certain ancient fire commanding dragon she knew). A long table with chaires followed past the fire pit, and past that, there were many rooms on either side, all with very high rised entrances, sporting anything from treasured books to important artifacts. She glanced at a large portrait of a city she once called home that hung right above the large double doors that you could basically call jewel encrusted gates. The sight of this city made her wonder. All Hallows Eve was creeping ever closer, and she knew it would be time for her to finish what she started. And lay waste to the town of Aldersbrunn. 

Three years ago, The mad doctor junkenstein made a proposal to the witch, and one she just could not refuse. She would help him kill the lord of Aldersbrunn and lay waste to the city, a city who shut him out and cast him aside, as it once did to the witch oh so long ago. No city nowadays has love for magic of any kind, least of all magic of the witch variety. They had cast her out and tried to burn her on a cross, in hopes of sending her soul straight to hell, branded with a holy mark, so she would be an easy target for demons to track. Of course, she didn’t let that happen. The man is known as junkenstein, a crazed doctor who was in all honesty driven to madness by the cities disdain of his eccentric persona. With no one to call a friend, he became bitter and left, not to mention a little sick on the head. However, say what you will about him, there was no denying that he was and still is one of the brightest minds in the continent when it came to science. 

Of course, science was inferior to magic in nearly every way, however, the witch would, "tolerate" his research and love for his inferior study because, in the end, it was still a study. Knowledge was knowledge, and she loved all forms of knowledge, and the witch couldn’t deny the doctors devotion to his study, even if his practice was far outclassed by her own. Granted, Those who devoted themselves to his practice weren’t deemed an enemy of the church and all civilization in Europe, forced to flee for their lives lest they want to meet the devil himself. ( She supposes some witches might actually want to meet him, or rather it.). With her aid, they would slay the king and all of those who had shunned them, and in return, the mad doctor would provide the witch with countless priceless books he stole from the inner library hidden within the castle of Alderbrunn. 

With the doctor's machines, powered by electricity, (which was a huge breakthrough in science, not that the witch or the city really cared anyways,) and the aid of the witch, the cities defenses fell. However, four legendary heroes, whose tales were sung throughout the nation, appears as the cities last line of defense. The soldier, the alchemist, the gunslinger, and the archer, the fabled four. They put up a good fight, but they could not hold off the witches assault. However, there was one small issue. Her contract required Doctor junkenstein to live, and while she could have continued fight, the mad doctor would surely fall in the battle. She had but no choice flee with the mad doctor in tow, much to her dismay. Even with her magic, she was barely able to heal the doctor once she brought him back to her secluded mansion. Two of the alchemist's poisons were running through his veins, and an arrow from the archer had pierced his chest right under his heart. Had it been any other person treating him, he would have surely died, or have lived with severe disabilities for life. But the witch of the wilds was a prodigy, a true devotee of magic and a gifted one to boot. Her magic was not a kind that commanded the elements, or the kind that played with the fabric of reality, space and time. No, her magic as a magic of life forces, of healing, and even resurrection. Tampering with life itself, and commanding its properties was where she excelled, and with it, she even taught herself necromancy. With the doctor healed, she figured it was best to bolster their army and try again next year. When the next year rolled around, the Witch called in favor form one of her older friends, however, they were met with the same fate as last year. The king had called upon the fabled four once again, but they also enlisted the help of the famed Comtesse, a powerful hunter, and vampire. 

 

For them to enlist a vampires help, they were surely desperate. Another legendary figure stood at the defense of the city, that being the engineering prodigy, and dragon slaying legend, captain of the Viking, Torbjorn Lindholm. Though the battle was fierce, the witch and her friends were forced to retreat, for once again, the mad doctor's life was hanging on a thin thread, ready to break at a moments notice. 

The witch sighed, one loss she could handle, but two? She couldn’t stand to lose twice. She stood up from her throne, and sauntered over to the staircase, passing by her servant, the reaper, along the way. She smirked a little at the thought of her devoted servant. He was once the legendary partner of the famous soldier, part of the fabled four. He was his partner and was also an esteemed witch hunter. It was him who found out that she was a witch, living in alderbrunn, tucked away in a small corner of the city, studying hard to better herself of the arts. That was almost 90 years ago now. He had nearly killed her, and as revenge, she tricked him into entering a pact with her, one that was very beneficial on her end, but not so much on his. 

He wanted power, she gave him power. Now he is an eternal, magical being, bound to be her servant. He wore a black cowl and robes, and his head was pumpkin, carved to give off a menacing, sickly grin. He could fade into a dark mist, and reappear to wherever he desired, setting up opportunities to feed his technically dead body of the nutrients of life. His body was in a constant state of healing and degeneration. He was a walking corpse, one that could never die, because all he needs to fuel himself, was the stolen life forces of others. Anything will do, trees, rabbits, but most of all humans. When injured, all he must do is kill, and he can then leech of their life force. He was a creation of many hours of The witches study, such a thing has never been done before. She was branching off into theory with this project, but her results showed her work had paid off. He was her pride and joy, the amount of spell combination and raw magic running through his cold body was staggering, and a testament to the witches power. Descending down her spiraling stairs, she headed towards the door. This year, she would go all out, no holding back. There truly is no kill like overkill, and she will make sure that this year, she does not fail. She has a few weeks before it is All Hallows eve once more, and she was going to call in many favors, because what’s a witch without friends? 

 

As she opened the door, the night's air filled her lungs with a sense determination, and she sat atop her enchanted broom, before slowly rising up, before ascending through the clouds. She planned to meet with many, and she knew that no matter what was to transpire in the coming weeks.

 

It was going to be fun.


	2. An old friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Witch needed to make sure she won, and that meant pulling out all the stops. So who could she call? Well, when in doubt, enlist the help of the soul surviving member of an ancient Indian dragon clan with a magic art so ancient it predates India itself.

The Dragonic summoner had seen war, sickness, prosperity and more. Her tale was one that predates the witch, Aldersbrunn and even the entire country of Germany. Hers was a tale of ambition, of power, and one that she told to very few. Her tale has grown so old, she was all but forgotten, at least until her dear friend dragged her into a battle against the whole city of aldersbrunn, the fabled four and more. Sure she wouldn't have to worry about being forgotten, but their defeat left a sour taste in her mouth. She was the dragonic summoner, she gave herself to the mercy of the magics of the most powerful dragons in India. She trained and fought until she was one day burdened with the legacy of the now extinct dragons of India. She had the shape of a tall woman but was made up of scales and dragon hide. In between each scale was a hint fire, a mere taste of what was to come should you encounter her. The dragons magic flowed through her veins, and after years of practice, she now commands that magic with such grace one would believe she created said magic. 

 

She wields the sacred flame of her deceased dragon masters, A magic flame that can destroy as well as consume all, but also create things that no mortal could ever reproduce. Her magic transcends simple elemental magics, her fire had layers and layers of properties most could not even begin to understand. This fire, this magical power, was once the pride and joy of India, but that was oh so long ago, and now she resides at the top of a steep mountain in Germany. One with lava oozing out of either side, and it practically screamed danger. It was hot, and it reeked of magic. 

Time to her meant little, live a few eons and you would feel the same too, but she found herself waiting in excitement, and she was almost impatient. She knew that her beloved friend, the witch of the wilds, would be coming to visit soon. She knew that the witch wanted to finish what she stared and the dragonic summoner wished to finish this business as well. 

 

Stepping into the outside of her castle, a castle that was both atop and inside the mountain, and it blended in so well with the stone and natural formation of the mountain that many would never even notice its existence, and took a deep breath. She treasured the hot air that ran through her lungs, a heat that had layers of magic inside it that few could truly begin to grasp, let alone appreciate, courtesy of all the lava oozing both inside and outside of her castle that she may or may not have had a hand in creating. There was no way naturally occurring lava would cascade out of a mountain in such a spectacular descent before mysteriously disappearing at the foot of the mountain. No one complained that the lava disappeared before it could get anywhere past the perimeter of her mountain, so no one cared to question it. After all, the mountain had been doing it for centuries now. 

 

As she peered down upon the world, atop her glorious mountain, sitting perfectly nuzzled between two streams lava atop her balcony, she saw a figure appear in the night sky. With her appearance, a whisper danced through her head. “ Best not to stay out, it's most dangerous at this hour. Return to your home's, let sleeps warm embrace take you away from all the troubles the night may provide” The dragonic summoner could not stifle a smile from appearing on her face. These whispers were clearly magical, and to the untrained, they would not be heard as whispers, or be heard at all. They would simply guide you through the motions they wished you too, pushing and swaying your subconscious. The witch was good, very good. The art of this spell was simple, a beginner spell really, but the witch of the wilds performed it beautifully, and made it look like it was the most intricate spell ever made. It was hard to identify it as a spell, meaning that it was having some effect even on the dragonic summoner herself. The intricacy of it was amazing. Only the most powerful magical beings would be able to identify that a spell was being performed on them. It was truly a potent spell, and one that was done without a trace left behind. It was also done with such a wide range as well. If the summoner had to guess, she would say that anyone within about a 70-metre radius of the witch herself would be put under this spell. To cast a spell with such potency on such a large scale spoke volumes to the witches power. After all, if she could do all this with a beginners spell, what could she do with a high ranking one?

 

The witch descended onto the summoners balcony, before stepping off her broom and securing a seat right next to the summoner. The heat here had no effect on the witch, all because the draconic summoner willed it to be so. The summoner elegantly rolled her wrist, before two balls of fire appeared before her. Both balls of fire began to take shape in the form of a glass before they were both fires no more, and instead, two perfectly crafted wine glasses with a few flames licking the edges of the each glass. She did the motion again, but this time the fire formed a wine bottle, and inside it was wine tinted with orange and could be described as resembling liquid fire. The bottle began to float and poured its contents into both glasses. The summoner handed a glass to the witch, before taking one herself.

 

“Angela” the summoner said with a hint of amusement and a sultry nature within it. 

“Satya” The witch said with such poise and class that would be fitting for a queen.

“ It has been far too long, my dear” The witch continued, speaking to the summoner but not averting her eyes off the world below them. 

“Time is irrelevant to me, and it will be to you as well. Give it a few more centuries, then it will start to take into effect, so long as the witch hunters haven’t gotten to you by then” The summoner couldn’t help but smirk as she spoke with a confidant but humorous undertone the witch surely noticed.

“ I do hope you wouldn’t just let them burn me without even a hint of effort to help on your part” The witch spoke playfully. “Or do I mean that little to you,” She said dramatically, huffing and putting a hand over her heart as she tilted her head back. 

“That depends on the outcome of this year’s all hallows eve,” The summoner said, taking a sip of her glass

“My dear, why talk about the outcome as if it isn’t predetermined?’ The witch said playfully, before crossing her legs and smirking before taking a sip of the wine. It burned as it passed down her throat, but a good kind of burn. A burn that screamed life, and tasted like magic. Its taste had a level of magical intracicy that really added to the flavor, and it was a taste few could truly appreciate. 

 

“I assume you are going to go all out this year?” the summoner said, a hint of expectation in her voice. 

“Most definitely” The witch replied, looking over the dragonic summoner. She took in the heat of her breath, and how she had an air about her that told all who gazed upon her that she was clearly a being of high magical abilities. She was probably the living embodiment of the term  
“ancient magics”. She could summon forth a power that she could daresay was as old as the world itself. In Fact, it was probably older. She often wondered, what could she do with her healing should she acquire the power to wield the summoners flames? 

“ I suppose I can lend a helping hand, again” She drew out the “again” to make it clear that the witch was asking for her help because she wasn’t strong enough. Power games were truthfully one of the only games the summoner enjoyed, and she made sure to always win them. 

“I've always wondered” The witch took a sip of her wine that she swore was more magic than actual wine (not that she was complaining) before gracefully standing up and heading for the edge of the balcony where her broom was levitating, waiting for its owner. Her hips swayed in an elegant yet provocative manner that the summoner knew the witch was doing out of habit. Not that she particularly minded the sight. “What it would feel like, to resurrect an ancient clan of dragons. Say” she paused, setting her hand gently on her broom before sitting on it, crossing her legs and cocking her head to one side, and put a finger to her chin as if to signify curiosity. “somewhere in the deepest caves in India?” 

The summoner paused, before speaking with a level of haste she hasn't replicated in at least a dozen centuries. “Y-you could do that?! You could resurrect my mast-” She caught herself. They were her masters long ago, but she became apart of them when they entrusted her with their magic as their dying breaths. She may have never fully ascended to the form of a dragon, so while her physical capabilities may not have been on their level, there was no question her magical abilities rivaled that of the ancient dragons “m-my kin. Can you truly do it. Can you resurrect my kin??! 

The summoner had forgone any pride she once had in winning the power game, she needed to know, could she do it. Could this witch, barely a century old, bring back her long deceased clan? She stood up from her seat and walked with haste to the broom before looking at the witch square in the eyes, wine glass in tow.

“I can look into it for you,” the witch said with a cheeky grin. “But I really would like to broaden my magical knowledge of Indian spellcasting”. 

The summoner paused, before speaking in a tone as if she was guarding an ancient treasure that upheld the balance of the world. In a sense, she kind of was. “ I will not reveal any secrets of my kins magical knowledge, our arts is just that. Ours, and I will not allow them to be studied by anyone but myself. I suggest you do not try to challenge me in this decision.” The summoner started to glow and radiate fire. It was such a potent magic that the witch had to take a deep breath to calm herself by the sudden sheer force of the summoners magic. The air became charged with the summoners arcane arts, and the air itself was liable to combust at any moment.

 

“I’m sure you can spare me some knowledge on India’s most kept arcane secrets” The summoner pumped the air with magic further “ that do not pertain to your clan or it’s secrets” The summoner stopped riling her magic, and the air became relaxed once more. The witch didn’t like to lose power games either, but she knew when to give in when it suited her needs. She had no intention of ruining their friendship, and there was no need to draw out a pointless fight. 

“Now that is something I can assist you in,” the summoner said with a resolute tone. They shook hands before they said their goodbyes. The witch offered one last sentiment before she flew off to recruit more friends for her party. “ meet me at my mansion three days before all hallows eve, or earlier if you so choose. Oh and make sure” she glanced back behind the summoner, peering at an old mural of her once powerful dragon clan

 

“That the nighttime witches don’t get to you”


	3. The last Banshee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The witch had enemies, sure. But so did that blasted cultist Zenyatta. He chose to align himself with the city of Aldersbrunn, and in doing so he made an enemy of the witch. She wanted to get back at him, and she knew just how to do so. She would befriend one of his oldest nemesis, and with her help, victory was just that much easier to attain.

The cold night air danced atop the witch’s skin as she flew across a very peculiar forest atop her broom. This forest was not her own, oh no, this forest was uncharted territory for her, it was dangerous, mysterious, and brimming with magic much like her own. However, this forest did not bend to her will, it did not answer her calls the way her forest did. It did not share secrets with her, rather she had to pry the secrets from the forest. The moonlight shone brilliantly upon her, casting an ethereal glow around her figure.

Many would call her a fool for coming here unprepared, Ireland's forests have always been feared, and most of all this one. But the witch was here on business, and she would not leave until a deal was made. The trees hummed a special kind of magic, luring her to change course and fly northwest. It was a lure that almost got her to comply, almost. The witch shook her head, the magic here was strong and clearly trying to lead her astray. She pressed a palm to her forehead and muttered a spell in a tongue long since forgotten, and the whisper was gone. The forest was trying to lure her to danger, but if it was resorting to such a high degree of magic to sway her course than it was clearly hiding something from her. 

“My my, you clearly have some skeletons in the closet, don’t you?” The witch muttered to herself. She was here for one thing, or rather, one person. She knew the forest didn’t want them to meet, and it was fighting her every step of the way. The whisper was one of many attempts, and it probably won’t be the last. She waved her hand in the air and cast a powerful protection charm. This would repel most magic directed at her, and it would not break easily.

After about two more minutes of flying, the witch halted her broom, as they stayed suspended in mid-air, the witch clasped both her hands together. Soon, a ray of light shone through her fingers, and it grew and grew until she released her hands before quickly shooting the light up into the sky. At first, it danced across the air, almost as if enjoying the freedom before it began to flow towards somewhere.

“Perfect,” the witch said with a purr. She hadn’t cast a revealing spell in a while, so she was delighted to see she had not lost her touch. The light guided her past a ravine, and into a patch of the forest that was much more darker than the rest of the forest, literally and figuratively. She descended onto the ground, and the light she casted had dispersed. Immediately, the witch sent whispers in every direction, compelling all beings to move anywhere but her direction. The witch's wards would compel even the strongest beings to avoid her presence, both unknowingly and consciously. She drummed her fingers on the bark of an old tree, and a spark of magic surged through her fingers. This tree looked to be as old as the concept of time, it’s thick bark less brown and more black, and it had lines across every inch of its bark, most even crossing over each other. She pressed an ear to the old tree, and the faintest voice could be heard from within. A scream, a blood-curdling scream that never ended. It sent chills down the witches spine, as the vibrations slithered their way down her back. She took a step away from the tree with a knowing look. This tree had who she was looking for sealed away in its core. It was at a constant battle to keep what it was sealing at bay, and the trees fatigue clearly showed. The witch unhinged a tome from her hip. It read “Vitae” and was probably as old as the tree, however it looked brand new. She softly opened the first page of the book. The page was blank yet was basically oozing out magic. The witch thought of the outcome she desired, and with that, the blank page started to materialize writing. It had a description of a spell, and then a magical formula, or equation that looked so complicated it seemed laughable. This spell was clearly ancient, as the magical terminology used in the spells written formula looked to be written by the very first magical users. The witch scanned the magical equation in front of her, the sheer amount of steps and magical combinations in this formula was staggering, but she was up for the task. She looked over the formula one last time to make sure that she perfectly comprehended the order of events and steps she had to perform.

 

The witch held out an open palm directed at the old tree, closed her eyes and sighed. She then began to mutter words long since forgotten to the world. Whenever the witch spoke in the magical language of old, her voice had an eerie sound to it, as if she was speaking into a deep cave. Her voice echoed all around her, as she focused her magic into her hand. Her chanting got louder and louder, and the echoing of her voice became a chorus for the fates of time to sing. Slowly, a bright yellow light began to extend from her hand and make way for the tree ever slowly. She called for the tree, and then pure, raw, magical energy resembling the magic she was putting forth began the stretch outwards. The magic the tree was exerting was dark purple, and it danced with the witches bright yellow magic until they both met. Then it became a matter of tug of war. Both sides tried to pull the other in, but neither would give in. The witches chants grew louder and were soon met with that same scream she heard in the heart of this old tree. The chants and the screams got louder and louder, and the witch's world began to spin. All of her senses got bombarded with dark magic, and it took all her strength not to let it claim her. The magic swirled around her, pulling her in, traveling through her veins and tugging her soul.

 

The mix of her magic and the old trees was blurring out reality, and the words she was speaking began to lose meaning in her head. She shook her head violently, before sending a surge of magic out to push back against the trees assault. The trees magic left her system but tried hard to regain control. The witch extended her other hand and summoned all her magic into her hands before her magic clung to the old trees and refused to let go. Using her last ounce of power, she pulled her magic forth and ripped out the magic from the tree. As the trees magic poured out, violently spilling as the witch pulled, it’s appearance started to lose life. Its bark grew jet black and shriveled up before dying completely. 

 

The witch gasped as she fell to the ground. She looked around her and saw purple magic dancing around her, before flowing into a spot right in front of her. As it flowed, the screaming came back louder and louder, before there was an explosion of magical power, and the screaming stopped. The witch threw up her arms in front of her face as she inhaled sharply.

She lowered her arms to see a sight she would never forget. Floating before her was a tall woman with greyed, shriveled up skin. She had long gray hair, and her eyes glowed with magic. There were broken shackles on her feet, and she was wearing rages that were gray, devoid of all colour, and torn in various places. 

Her mere presence protruded magical energy, one that had elements of the hates in it, and one that understood the intricacies of life, and death. 

Standing before her was the last banshee left on the mortal realm, Moira. 

The witch stood up, before looking directly into Moira's eyes.

 

“Hmmmm” Moira spoke with a thoughtful tone, “I told that damned Cult leader that someone would find me eventually. Although It took a lot longer than expected”. Moira than started to size up the witch, feeling her power, before circling around her. “ I guess a sense of gratitude is expected of me”

“Actions speak far louder than words, as I am sure you know,” The witch said with a coy smirk.

“Good to see the world is still full of witches in over their heads,” Moira said with a sarcastic tone as she turned away.

“Forgive me, I just thought you would appreciate a chance to get back at a certain cultist who may have had a little something to do with your previous…. Predicament.” The witch said with a sultry tone as she gently walked forward. 

 

“Ah, so you know of Zenyatta's whereabouts?” Moira said with a tinge of cruel excitement

“I know where he will be on All Hallows Eve. However, he will be accompanied by numerous powerful allies and a whole city guard to boot. You would never be able to get to him. Well, alone that is.”

Moira smiled a dark smile at the witch “What do you have to gain from assisting me?” Moira asked knowingly

 

“ simple,” the Witch said “ I want to kill Zenyatta, all his allies and lay waste to the city he will be in. You help me destroy the city, and Zenyatta will fall. We help each other”

Moira sighed before speaking “ where do we meet?”

“My house, deep in the forests of aldersbrunn, that's where we all will be,” The witch says as she mounts her floating broom.

“ we?” Moira asks

“The city we plan to attack is amongst the most powerful, I am assembling a group of powerful allies” Mercy spoke with a smile

 

“Allies such as?” Moira asks

“Patience my dear. Come with me and you shall see” The witch says while offering a hand atop her floating broom. 

“Just so you know, I hate surprises,” Moira says as she takes the witches hands before hoisting herself atop the broom.

 

“ well then you shouldn’t align yourself with witches like myself” The witch says

 

 

 

 

“ we are full of surprises”


End file.
